Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Spoof
by Tour Guide62
Summary: An insane, illogical journey into Harry Potter's first year of Hogwarts. Parody of Book 1. Rated T for language.
1. The Boy Who Is The Main Character

**Harry Potter: The Sorcerer's Spoof**

**By: Tour Guide62**

**Disclaimer: I am neither British nor a woman so I clearly do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Boy-Who-Is-The-Main-Character**

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number 4, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They hated the poor, made rude remarks about their neighbors, and participated in tax evasion just like that insufferable Jones family down the street.

They also hated the literary technique known as "foreshadowing". So when Mrs. Dursley turned to her husband one morning and said the words, "You know what would suck? If my sister and her good-for-nothing-UnDursleyish-sexy-no-good-husband of hers inexplicitly died and forced us to raise their Eldritch Abomination of a son," Mr. Dursley suddenly experienced what people call the "jumping out of a plane as you realize you forgot the parachute" feeling. As he struggled to regain his sense of composure, he went to kiss his small (for now) son goodbye before he went to work. Unfortunately for Mr. Dursley, he was so frazzled by his wife's question that he missed his son completely and ended up sticking his face into the boy's oatmeal.

After cleaning off the oatmeal, Mr. Dursley stepped outside the house, took a deep breath, wondered if somebody had run over a skunk, and saw a cat. Being deathly allergic to cats, Mr. Dursley made a very manly panicked run for his car, got in, and locked the door. He nervously poked his head up to peek out of the window. Mr. Dursley immediately thought that something funny was going on. For starters, the cat was wearing a pointed hat on its head, a sign that read "I AM NOT A WITCH" was hanging from its neck, and the cat was giving him quite an impressive glare.

As he drove to work, Mr. Dursley's mind kept coming back to the cat. He was so distracted that he ran three red lights and ran over several strange looking people in cloaks. He was distracted once more as he gazed at what the poor soul stuck to his windshield was wearing. Dursley, in an attempt to make his day right again, turned on the windshield wipers, and removed the person from the front of his car.

Still shaken from his not-very-traumatic experiences, Mr. Dursley finally arrived at Grunnings, a company that made drills and was currently the second most frequent place of workplace suicide in all of England (after Parliament, of course). Mr. Dursley had a very nice office on the 31st floor and spent the majority of his day making work three times as hard for everyone working under him by screaming at them whenever they asked for things like health care or decent working conditions.

So focused was Mr. Dursley on yelling at the intercom on his desk that he completely failed to notice an owl fly beak-first into the window behind him.

Around noon-ish, Mr. Dursley began to feel a little hungry, so he decided to walk across the street to get the new "Glazed Glory Diabetic Delight Donut" from the bakery across the street. As he heaved his way towards his sugary goal, he spotted more people wearing cloaks. He was outraged to see that they were standing in front of the bakery, and glared at them for their gross crimes against humanity. I mean, standing? Really? Ridiculous.

Once he obtained his sugary, artery-clogging treat, Mr. Dursley was once again forced to brave the horrors of people in cloaks. He exited the bakery and prepared to begin his mad dash back to the relative safety of his office. However, as he waited for the traffic light to turn red so he could bravely run across the street like a psychopath, he heard a brief snippet of their conversation.

"Yeah, it's the Potters. Their son Harry…" said one.

"Oh dude! I was there after! I managed to snag James Potter's watch!" interrupted another.

"That's nothing! I managed to grab his glasses!" said another.

The light finally turned green and Mr. Dursley ran across the street, screaming a high-pitch shriek of terror. Once he had ran up all 31 floors of Grunnings, he locked his office and used the intercomm to tell his secretary to violently murder anyone with a cloak who decided to pay a visit.

Mr. Dursley grabbed the phone on his desk and started to dial his home phone number in order to ask his wife if she could bring him a new set of trousers. Then he stopped. He didn't know for a fact that the Potters the people in cloaks were talking about were _his_ Potters. There had to be tons of Potters all over the UK. Plus, he didn't know what _his_ Potters had decided to call their boy. It could have been Harvey, Harold, or Henrietta. Yes, he thought as he put down the phone, it was probably best not to worry his wife.

Besides, he was wearing his brown pants today.

(_Later in the day_)

Mr. Dursley got out of his car and looked around. The cat with the witches hat, the sign that said "I AM NOT A WITCH", and the venomous glare was still hanging around. Shuddering violently, Mr. Dursley ran into his house, went upstairs, changed his trousers, and hid in the closet.

After several hours of manly cowardly tears, Mr. Dursley finally gathered enough courage to go downstairs and watch the news with his wife.

"_Showers of stars and downpours of owls. The weather all across England seems to be acting strange today._" Said one of the anchors. "_I can't believe that this is breaking news folks. I'm just here for my paycheck._"

That. Was. IT. Mr. Dursley had had enough weird crap happen in his day. First, Mrs. Dursley had asked him that horrible question. Second, the cat which, if that dark shape outside was any indication, was STILL f**king there. Third, those freaks in the Satanic robes. Fourth and Final, all of the whispers about the Potters. Speaking of…

"Erm…Petunia?" asked Mr. Dursley.

"Hmm?" Petunia Dursley hmm'ed. "What is it Vernon?"

Vernon Dursley was a brave man. If by "brave" you mean "hen-pecked and cowardly". Nevertheless, he gathered whatever backbone he had left and muttered, "Have you…have you heard from your…your sister lately?"

Petunia Dursley froze. Her head slowly swiveled around to stare at her husband with very narrow eyes.

Vernon Dursley almost soiled himself again.

Petunia did not blink as she asked, "Why in the name of JK Rowling herself do you want to know that?"

"Just…Just…" Vernon whimpered pathetically.

"You want to leave me for her, don't you?" accused Petunia.

"No, I-"

"SO WHAT IF SHE'S PRETTIER, NICER, AND AN ALL-AROUND BETTER PERSON THAN I AM!" screamed Petunia. "SHE WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO FOLD YOUR SOCKS AS WELL AS I CAN!"

"I…I…" whimpered Vernon. "I was just wondering what the name of her boy was again."

"Oh." said Petunia. "His name's Harry."

"Good." said Vernon. He felt like crying. "That's good…"

As an emotionally shattered Vernon Dursley crawled into bed with his wife, he thought about the events of the day and shuddered. He rolled onto his side, slightly lifting the mattress due to his weight, and relaxed. Whatever the strange events of today meant, it surely could not effect either him or his family.

It is a good thing that Vernon Dursley did not hate the literary device known as irony, otherwise we would not be able to go to sleep that night.

Hours later, the cat outside adjusted its witches hat and stared down the street. Suddenly, with a flamboyant _pop_, a man in a pimpin' purple robe appeared out of thin air. The older gentleman stroked his long white beard as he came up the street. He pulled out a silver cigarette lighter and clicked on it. Every single light on the street, from the streetlight to the nightlight in scared little Jimmy Nelson's room, went out. As Jimmy Nelson wet his bed, the old man outside wandered over to #4 Privet Drive and looked at the cat.

"Hmmm…" he mumbled. "Where's Minerva? She said she'd be here…"

The cat looked at the old man, gave the cat equivalent of an exasperated sigh, and suddenly transformed into a stern looking woman with glasses.

"Professor Dumbledore." greeted the woman. "I can't believe you didn't know it was me."

"My dear Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore. "It is both very dark and I am very old. I'm afraid that I wasn't able to recognize you. And I was a little confused by that sign hanging from your neck. I mean, "I'm not a witch"? That's false advertising."

Professor McGonagall took off the "I AM NOT A WITCH" sign and glared at Dumbledore. "I'm just being careful." she said in her own defense. "Not that anyone else in the wizarding world is giving a damn about security. People running around in cloaks, flocks of owls, people hugging Muggles and then Disapparating right in front of them."

"I think," said Dumbledore gently, "That after eleven years of constant fear, we deserve a chance to finally celebrate and be a little lax in security."

McGonagall fixed Dumbledore with a steely glare. "I suppose you've heard about the group of wizards who released a group of dragons on a Muggle town in _celebration_."

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Ah…youth. A time to be careless. Why, when I was their age, I felt the overpowering need to subjugate and oppress Muggles! And now look at me!"

"What?" asked McGonagall.

"Nothing. So," said Dumbledore, "How about that Voldemort? Up and dying like that just when the war was getting good."

"So he actually is dead?" asked McGonagall. "Really?"

"Probably." said Dumbledore. "I'm like 65% sure."

"Then are James and Lily really-"

"Dead as a doornail?" supplied Dumbledore. "Yep. Hey!" He said suddenly, holding out a small bag. "Want a Sherbert Lemon? Or are they Lemonheads? I can never tell."

McGonagall simply stood there, shocked. "Th-then their son…Harry. He really…killed Voldemort?"

"Like the little badass that he is." said Dumbledore. "I don't really know how yet, but when I do I'll be sure to let you know."

"No you won't." said McGonagall. "You don't tell anyone anything!"

"That's not true. I told _you _about the Potters being dead." Dumbledore said. "Oh, by the way, I'm bringing Harry here."

"Where?"

"Here."

"_Here_?"

"Here. Yep."

"NO!" yelled McGonagall. "Albus, these people, if I can call them that, absolutely detest magic! They hate Lily and James! Why on earth do you think they'll bother taking him in?"

"Because it was in the Potter's will!" said Dumbledore.

(_Flashback_)

"_I, Lily Potter (née Evans), request that, in the event that James Potter and I die off-page in accordance to some prophecy, Harry James Potter __**never ever**__ be left in the care of my sister, Petunia Dursley (née Evans) and her husband, Vernon Dursley._" Read the will. Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the table holding the legal document, holding a bottle of White-Out.

(_Back to the present_)

"But what about Sirius Black?" yelled McGonagall. "He's Harry's Godfather."

"Funny story." said Dumbledore.

(_Elsewhere_)

"PETER!" yelled Sirius. He was standing in a crowded street filled with Muggles and a short, fat man who was trying to run away. "YOU BETRAYED-"

"OH MY GOD, SIRIUS!" Yelled Peter. "YOU BETRAYED LILY AND JAMES?"

"What?" asked Sirius. "No I-"

"AND YOU HATE WEREWOLVES?"

"No!"

"YOU WANT TO MARRY YOUR COUSIN?"

"Excuse me while I barf." said Sirius, who was green in the face.

"And excuse me while I blow up these Muggles." Muttered Peter.

"What?" asked Sirius.

"_Explosivo_!" yelled Peter as he pointed his wand at the sewer.

(_Back on Privet Drive_)

"I don't even want to know what you mean when you say 'Funny story'. But the fact remains," said McGonagall, "That he can't stay here!"

"That's where you are wrong, Professer McDonald's." said Dumbledore.

"McGonagall."

"Right. Anyway, he doesn't have anywhere else to go."

"Doesn't have-Albus, everybody in our world will want to adopt him!" said McGonagall. "People will name their kids after him! Hell, people will Transfigure their kids to look like him!"

"But don't you see how better off he'll be, away from all the fame." said Dumbledore. "Don't you see that years of abuse will be better for the boy rather than years of attention and praise and getting treated like a human being?"

"Um…no." said McGonagall.

"Oh." said Dumbledore. "Well then…" He whipped out his wand and said, "_Obliviate_!"

McGonagall's eyes became unfocused. "I-Albus?" she asked. "What are we doing here?"

"I'm bringing Harry Potter to his relatives. You agreed that it was the right course of action." supplied Dumbledore.

"I did?"

"Sure, why not?" lied Dumbledore.

"…Well, do you have him then?" she asked, eyeing Dumbledore's bitchin' purple cloak.

"Nope!" said a cheerful Dumbledore. "Hagrid's bringing him."

"Uhm…not to doubt Hagrid's reliability, but is that the safest course of action?" asked McGonagall.

"What do you mean?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well…Hagrid doesn't really measure danger in the way normal people do." said McGonagall. "Remember that time he led that group of Ravenclaws into the Forbidden Forest?"

"If they were real Ravenclaws," said Dumbledore, "They would have known better than walking through that camp of trolls."

"Albus, Hagrid led them to the camp of trolls! He started to arm-wrestle one of them while the others bludgeoned the Ravenclaws to death!" screamed McGonagall.

"Oh please," said Dumbledore, "Hogwarts doesn't go one week without a death of a student. Why I remember when I was young-"

"Albus?" interrupted McGonagall. "Do you hear something?"

A loud rumbling noise was breaking the sleepy silence of Privet Drive. The two professors looked to sky to see a gigantic motorcycle with an even more gigantic man riding it fly through the air. The motorcycle crashed onto the street and pulled to a stop right in front of the professors.

"Ah, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore. "Right on time."

"Where on earth did you get this ridiculous contraption?" asked McGonagall.

"Sirius Black gave it to me when I went to the wreckage of the house." said Hagrid. "He looked really shaken up though…"

"Never mind!" said Dumbledore. "I'm sure that Sirius will be nice and comfy in Azkaban, that traitor."

"What?" asked Hagrid.

"Nothing. Do you have Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"Do I have Harry?" Hagrid chuckled. "Of course I got-" Hagrid looked all over the motorcycle. "Do I got Harry?" he asked himself. He felt a wiggling feeling in his coat pocket. "Oh yeah!" he said as he reached in and pulled out a small baby wrapped in blankets. "Got 'im!" He handed baby Harry to Dumbledore.

"Hagrid…" said McGonagall slowly, "You put a baby in your pocket?"

"Well, I needed to steer the bike." said Hagrid. "Duh."

"Holy crap look at the scar on this kid!" said Dumbledore, looking at the baby in his arms. A scar in the shape of a lightning bolt adorned the forehead of Baby Harry. "Good for you buddy!" Dumbledore said to the sleeping infant. "Chicks dig scars…so I'm told."

"Should we get this over with, sir?" asked Hagrid.

"Oh yeah." Dumbledore took Baby Harry to the front door of #4 Privet Drive. "Whelp, it's been fun, huh Harry? Mum and Dad are dead and you get to enjoy life with your Auntie and Uncle! Uhm…good luck with that." He laid the blanketed Harry onto the porch and gave him a letter. "Give that to your Uncle/Aunt so they'll take you in, ok? There's a good boy." He pressed the doorbell and hid with the other two in the bushes.

Vernon Dursley opened the door and shouted, "If that Jimmy Nelson is doorbell-ditching us again, I am going to beat the ever-loving-" He looked down on the porch and spotted Baby Harry. "HOLY CRAP, A BABY! Petunia didn't have another one, did she?" Very confused, Vernon picked up Harry and brought him inside.

"Well, that's that." said Dumbledore, coming out of the bushes. "I guess we should skedaddle."

"Ok…I'll head back to Hogwarts." said McGonagall. She Disapparated.

"And I'll take Sirius his bike back, unless he's been wrongfully imprisoned." said Hagrid.

"And I'll head back to the party I was at!" said Dumbledore. "There's this cute blonde next to the punch bowl. I'm going to see if I can chat him up." Dumbledore walked to the edge of the street, turned back to look at #4 Privet Drive. "Dumbledore's getting some tonight!" he said as he Disapparated.

* * *

**I'm not turning this into "Dumbledore is secretly behind every bad thing ever in Harry Potter's life", he's just going to do anything he can to get his way in this story.**

**Anyway, want to ask a question? Make a comment? Yell at me because Dumbledore would never use the words "Dumbledore's getting some tonight"? **

**Then Review!**


	2. We Destroyed A Zoo

**Harry Potter: The Sorcerer's Spoof**

**By: Tour Guide62**

**Disclaimer: I have to work at a part-time job. If I owned Harry Potter I would have the money to buy the place where I have a part-time job.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: We Destroyed A Zoo**

Nearly ten years have passed since the faithful night that Harry Potter was unceremoniously dumped onto his relatives. #4 Privet Drive had changed relatively little in the almost-decade in which we have left it last, but instead of pictures of a small toddler, the pictures on the mantelpiece in the sitting room now showed a morbidly obese little boy doing nice things like riding a bike or threatening the local neighbor children.

There was no sign at all of another boy who lived (I just realized what I did there) in the house. But Harry Potter was still there, sleeping and dreaming of the day when his relatives finally dropped dead of their inevitable heart attacks.

Unfortunately, Harry's lovely dream was interrupted by a harsh bitch-slap from reality, which came in the form of his Aunt Petunia frantically pounding on his door.

"Get up! Get up!" she said in a panicked whisper. "The beast awakens on his day of birth!"

"Oh God." said Harry as he ran out of his cupboard. Ever since he could remember, Harry had slept in the cupboard under the stairs. His relatives claimed that everyone had a relative living underneath the stairs, but Harry had no idea if this claim was true.

Harry ran into the kitchen and began cooking breakfast for his relatives. "Hurry, hurry!" yelled his Aunt. "He's coming!"

A loud _THUD_ was heard. It sounded like something very heavy was stomping downstairs.

"HE IS HERE!" screamed Aunt Petunia.

The door to the kitchen burst open and a obscenely large eleven-year-old boy waddled into the room. Think Violet Beauregard Blueberry Version, only normal colored and male.

"Mother…" the boy groaned. "I require…sustenance…"

"Take the boy!" screamed Aunt Petunia, pointing at Harry. "He has your offering!"

"Excellent…" rasped Dudley Dursley as he rolled his way towards Harry.

Harry, who was shaking like a leaf, weakly held out a frying pan with bacon in it. "Uhm…Breakfast?" he asked nervously.

"FFFFFFFFOOD!" yelled Dudley, as he grabbed the frying pan from Harry and devoured both the pan and the bacon. "MOOORE…"

"Hello family!" said Vernon Dursley happily. His smile turned to a frown as he looked at Harry. "You're still here?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." said Harry. "I'm only ten, I don't have anywhere else to go."

"That's no excuse!" shouted Uncle Vernon. "Why when I was ten, I sued my family and got enough money to buy this house! So the moral of the story is that when in doubt sue the pants off of people!"

"…Are you saying I should sue you?" asked Harry.

"WHAT HAVE WE TOLD YOU ABOUT ASKING QUESTIONS!" Yelled Vernon.

"Um…don't do it?" replied Harry.

"Was that a question?" screamed Vernon.

"…No?" whimpered Harry.

"I hear questions!"

"You do?"

"That's it you little ingrate!" yelled Vernon. "Just for that, you are coming to the zoo with us!"

"The zoo?" said Harry, hardly believing his ears.

"DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE CIRCUS TOO? BECAUSE, AS GOD AS MY WITNESS, I WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN!" yelled Vernon.

"No, sir!" said Harry.

"Good! Now make my boy more bacon!" Hollered Vernon, as he pointed at Dudley.

"Bacon?" Wheezed Dudley. "Bacon?"

"In a minute son." said Uncle Vernon. He pointed an accusing finger at Harry. "If you mess up this trip for my boy, I swear to Allah, The Man Upstairs, and Tom Cruise that I will lock you up in the zoo! Then we'll see how smart you are when you're locked in with the gorillas!"

Harry shrugged, "Wouldn't be too different from living here, actually."

"What?"

"Nothing." said Harry quickly. He held up the replacement frying pan as a peace offering. "Bacon?"

"BACOOOON!" Screamed Dudley as he rolled over Uncle Vernon in an attempt to get to the pan. Harry threw the sizzling bacon at Uncle Vernon, who screamed due to both the hot bacon grease and his son attempting to devour the bacon off of his eyes.

There was a knock at the front door. Aunt Petunia, having wisely stayed out of her son's way, walked out of the kitchen and opened it. "Why Mrs. Figg!" she greeted. "Good morning!"

"Petunia?" said Mrs. Figg. She held up a rat-like boy. "My cats were attacking this thing. Is it one of yours?"

"MRS. FIGG, HELP ME I AM BEING ABUSED!" Yelled Harry from the kitchen.

"That's nice dear." said Mrs. Figg.

"That's one of Dinky Dudders Dumbo Dudley's friends!" said Aunt Petunia as she grabbed the boy. "Piers Polkiss!" She slammed the door on Mrs. Figg, who proceeded to fall off the porch and break one of her legs.

"Dudders!" said Aunt Petunia as she dragged Piers into the kitchen. "Your friend is here."

"Does he have foooooood?" asked Dudley.

"No."

"Then he is of no use to me." said Dudley as he continued to wolf down bacon.

Minutes later, the Dursley clan, Harry, and Piers were getting into the car. As Uncle Vernon finished strapping Dudley to the roof of the car, he turned to glare at Harry. "I'm going to warn you again, boy. Don't ruin this trip with one of your freaky-deeky acts of weirdness."

"I don't have freaky-deeky acts of weirdness!" protested Harry. Technically this was not true, as a lot of unexplainably odd things tended to happen when Harry was around. A good example would be when Aunt Petunia tried to cut his hair:

(_FLASHBACK MOTHERF**KERS)_

Aunt Petunia stood behind Harry, who was tied to a chair. She menacingly held a pair of scissors in her hand and started to walk towards Harry.

"Uhm…Aunt Petunia? I like my hair the way it is." said Harry.

"Well I don't!" she yelled. She brought the scissors dangerously close to Harry's ear.

"Watch the scissors!" yelled Harry. "I don't want to look like George in Book 7!"

"Shut up and get ready to get sheared!"

As Aunt Petunia cut Harry's hair, she noticed something strange. Every time she cut some of her nephew's hair, it instantly grew back.

"AAAHHH!" screamed Aunt Petunia. "DEMON HAIR!" She held up a can of hairspray and a lighter in order to make a Rorschach-style flamethrower. "KILL IT WITH FIRE!"

(_END FLASHBACK PLEASE)_

Unfortunately, the ride to the zoo was already off to a bad start. After a motorcycle had gone by Harry had opened his mouth to say that he had had a dream about a flying motorcycle. Uncle Vernon, upon hearing this, swerved his car so much that it almost shot off the freeway and became a flying car.

"MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" He screamed at Harry as he ran several cars off of the freeway.

"I said I dreamed about it." explained Harry. "I don't actually believe that motorcycles can fly."

"THEY CAN'T FLY!" Hollered Uncle Vernon.

"…I know." said Harry slowly. "It was just a dream."

"WELL I HAVE DREAMS WHERE I'M A BALLERINA! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT?" yelled Uncle Vernon.

"…I'm a little disgusted by the thoughts of you in tights." said Harry with a shudder.

After a few more hours of driving (and stopping to retie Dudley to the roof after he fell off), the car finally pulled up to the zoo.

The Dursleys and Piers amused themselves by throwing whatever snacks they bought at the caged animals, while Harry amused himself by imagining him throwing his relatives into the tiger cage.

Eventually, the Dursley party made its slow meandering way to the reptile house. There, Piers rolled Dudley over to the cage that held the largest snake in the house. There the two hooligans proceeded to hit the glass of the cage with smaller children. The snake looked towards them and gave them a contemptuous flick of the tongue.

"SUCK!" screamed Dudley. "SLAVE!" He yelled to Piers. "ROLL ME OVER TO THE IGUANAS!"

As Piers rolled his tubby master to the iguana cage, rolling over Aunt Petunia in the process, Harry moved closer to the cage. The snake looked over at Harry and rolled its eyes.

"That's gotta suck bro." said Harry, mostly to himself.

"_Aw, it happens all the time_." said the snake.

"I bet. It's gotta be rough sitting in a zoo all day." said Harry.

"_It's not too bad. I mean, I get fed every day. But I want to head back to Brazil_." said the snake.

"You sound awfully English to be from Brazil." said Harry.

"_I was born here. You try keeping your accent after years of hearing zoo employees talking about cricket and tea time and bad dentistry or any of the other things you Brits are known for._" replied the snake.

"At least you're not in an American zoo." replied Harry. "You'd hear zoo employees talking about baseball, MTV, or their cultural ignorance."

"_Good point._" said the snake. _"You know, maybe I'll try and meet a girl before I head to Brazil. Get some companionship and let her see the snake if you know what I mean._"

"I'm ten, dude." said Harry.

"_Oh yeah. Sorry._" apologized the snake.

"You know," Harry began, "I should probably be a bit more worried that I'm talking to a snake, but you are the only person I have ever met that has actually talked to me like I'm not a waste of space, so I'm good."

"HOLY S**T! LOOK AT THAT SNAKE!" screamed Dudley as he was rolled back to the cage. He kicked Harry out of the way and pressed his nose to the glass.

Harry dropped to the floor and landed in someone's spilled soda. As soon as Harry landed in the puddle of Pepsi, the glass of the snake's cage disappeared.

"Buh?" grunted Dudley.

The snake, seeing his chance for freedom, slithered out of his cage and went to Harry.

"_Soda's bad for you. Get some juice or something._" And with that bit of nutrition advice, the snake escaped the reptile house, never to be seen again.

After 2 minutes of stunned silence, the entire reptile house exploded into pandemonium. People rioted, the zoo employees were attacked, and the iguanas just sat in their cages and watched the chaos with amused indifference.

The zookeeper, a Mr. M. Damon, came to calm a hysterical Aunt Petunia down. Unfortunately for him, Uncle Vernon launched into a suger-filled rampage and socked him in the face. Uncle Vernon proceed to pick up his wife, Harry, and Piers and managed to kick Dudley to the car.

After dropping Piers off on the side of the road and returning home, Uncle Vernon turned to Harry with a horrible look on his face. "WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?"

"Nothing!" said Harry.

"Oh. Ok then." said Uncle Vernon. Catching sight of Aunt Petunia's angry face, he gulped and said, "I suddenly don't believe you. Go to your cupboard and stay there forever!"

"Can't I eat first?" pleaded Harry.

"Well, I suppose-" began Uncle Vernon.

Aunt Petunia cleared her throat and glared at Uncle Vernon.

"NO! You can't eat any of our delicious…what are we having again?" Uncle Vernon asked Aunt Petunia.

"Tuna casserole." she replied.

Uncle Vernon groaned. "Can't we just not eat? Like the boy?" Under the intense glare of Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon backtracked and said weakly, "I'm sure it'll be delicious dear."

Harry, rather than get yelled at by his Uncle again, decided that now would be a good time to get back in the cupboard before his Uncle tried to punish him by making him eat Aunt Petunia's god-awful dinner.

Much later, around midnight, Harry was wondering weather or not it was safe to sneak some of Uncle Vernon's hidden take-out into his cupboard. Harry thought about his dead mommy and daddy, who died in a freak car accident that propelled both of them through the windshield of their car and into an open sewer where they were swept away. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he thought he could remember a flash of green light, a burning sensation in his forehead and a large, hairy man stuffing him into his pocket and then flying off on a motorcycle.

When he was younger, Harry had imagined some unknown relation or family friend coming to his rescue and adopting him. He would image that it would either be an escape prisoner or a teaching werewolf or maybe even a clan of ginger people. But then Harry would snap back to reality and realize that those people couldn't possibly exist in real life.

That'd be ridiculous.

* * *

**End that's the end of Chapter 2.**

**Want to comment? Complain? Yell at me because you can't get the image of Vernon Dursley in ballerina tights out of your head?**

**Then review!**

**Uncle Vernon: Feels like I'm wearing nothing at all...nothing at all...nothing at all...**

**Why did I just do that to myself? Why?**


	3. Worst Road Trip Ever

**Harry Potter: The Sorcerer's Spoof**

**By: Tour Guide62**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I AM HARRY POTTER! *Duhn-Duhn-Duuuunn***

* * *

**Chapter 3: Worst. Road Trip. Ever.**

By the time Harry was let out of the cupboard again, it was the start of the summer holidays and life at #4 Privet Drive had settled back into its quiet normality. Uncle Vernon had resumed his iron-fisted dictatorship at Grunnings, Aunt Petunia had gossiped to the neighbors about Mrs. Jones's infidelity, and Dudley had broken the majority of the expensive presents that he received for his birthday by hitting the neighborhood children with them.

Summer vacation was usually something that kids looked forward to. It was a chance to escape teachers, homework, and the horrifying cafeteria food. Unfortunately, Harry disliked summer. There was no escape from Dudley's minions, who spent their days chasing Harry with sticks, slingshots, and the odd AK-47.

In order to escape imminent death, Harry spent a lot of his time outside; thinking to himself about the upcoming September. Dudley would be going to Smeltings School for Britain's Finest, a private school. Harry, however, would be going to Stonewall School for the Rest , the local public school.

"The stuff people's heads down the toliet at Stonewall." said Dudley as he blocked the rest of the hallway from Harry one morning. "Want to go upstairs and practice?"

"No thanks." said Harry. "You're already a s**thead Dudley. I wouldn't want to make it worse."

Dudley paused for a moment before saying, "Thanks Harry! I wouldn't want my condition to be even worse."

"I'm sure you wouldn't." replied Harry.

Later that evening, Dudley would roll around the living room in his new school uniform, which was a garish assault of oranges and maroons. Harry blinked rapidly and tried not to look directly at him, lest he become blinded from the flashy colors.

"My boy looks so grown-up and sophisticated!" cried Aunt Petunia.

"Dear God it hurts to look at it!" screamed Harry as he clutched his eyes.

Aunt Petunia glared at her least favorite family member. "Oh yes. You." she said to Harry. "Your school sent your uniform too, but we tore it up and sewed the pieces onto Dudley's so his uniform would fit. Your uncle has gotten you a new uniform." Petunia handed Harry an orange jumpsuit.

"…Uh…Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry. "Isn't this what people in jail wear?"

"WHAT HAVE WE TOLD YOU ABOUT QUESTIONS?" screamed Aunt Petunia.

"I think you said something along the lines of 'If you have time to ask questions, you have time to be miserable'." answered Harry.

"AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!" Yelled Aunt Petunia.

The next morning, Harry and his relatives were sitting around the kitchen table and eating breakfast (Eggs for the Dursleys, egg shells for Harry) when the sound of the mail slot slamming shut.

"Dudley. Go get the mail." said Uncle Vernon. The entire family froze.

"Wh-what?" asked Dudley.

"The mail." said Uncle Vernon. "Go get it."

"B-B-But-" stammered Dudley.

"Dudley. Mail. Now." said Uncle Vernon.

"He's just a boy!" screamed Aunt Petunia.

"He has to be a man someday!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

"Guys…it's just the mail." said Harry.

"B-B-B-B-But-But-But-But…" repeated Dudley in a horrified mantra.

"Dudley Q. Dursley!" yelled Uncle Vernon. "This is what you were born to do!"

"MY BABY!" screamed Aunt Petunia.

"HOLY S**T WOULD YOU ALL SHUT UP!" yelled Harry. "I'LL GO GET THE F**KING MAIL!"

"No Billy! Don't be a hero!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

"My name is Harry!" yelled Harry as he left the kitchen to retrieve the mail for his moronic relatives. He walked over to the front door and picked up the pile of letters. The letters included the usual death threats, pleas for money from Aunt Marge, an indictment notice for Uncle Vernon, a letter for Harry-

Wait…what?

Harry looked at the letter that was addressed to him in interest. Nobody had ever written to him before. Granted, not many people would write a ten-year old kid, but that's not important. Someone _had _written this letter for Harry, as it was addressed to him:

_To Harry Potter_

_Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Harry briefly wondered what kind of person would know that a small child was getting locked in a cupboard every night and not try to stop it.

Meanwhile, in a castle/school in Scotland, Albus Dumbledore was listening to Minerva McGonagall's stress-filled rant about how they should check up on Harry Potter.

"Really, Dumbledore," she said as she shook her head, "Why are you not rushing over to that house and making those Muggles treat the boy right? We both saw on his letter that he sleeps in a cupboard. Isn't that a sign that the boy's being mistreated?"

Dumbledore waved his hand in an attempt to dissipate McGonagall's bad vibes. "Minerva, reeeeeeeeelax. Plenty of people grow up being locked in a small dark room. Why, my own sister grew up in similar circumstances. You don't hear her complaining about it, do you?"

McGonagall was silent for a moment before asking, "Isn't your sister dea-"

Dumbledore chortled to himself; cutting her off. "Minerva! I just realized that the word 'cir-cum-stance' has a dirty word in it! How hilarious!" He erupted into maniacal laughter.

Meanwhile, Harry was still examining the letter when Uncle Vernon whimpered from the kitchen, "Boy? Are you dead? Was there a bomb in one of the letters?"

Harry, rolling his eyes, gathered up the letters and took them into the kitchen. He threw the other letters at Uncle Vernon and sat down to open the envelope-

"DAAAAAAAAAAD!" Screamed Dudley. "HARRY'S GOT SOMETHING!"

"INVASION OF PRIVACY!" Yelled Uncle Vernon as he snatched the letter away from Harry.

"Dude, what the f**k?" exclaimed Harry. "That's my letter!"

"HA HA HA!" Laughed Uncle Vernon. "Stealing things from children is fun! But anyways, who the devil would ever write to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon. He looked at the letter (More specifically, the large green _H_ on the back) and his smile disappeared. "…I just peed myself a little."

"That's great." said Harry. "So can I see my letter now or-"

"NOPE!" said Uncle Vernon as he picked both Harry and Dudley up and threw them out of the kitchen and into the wall. Vernon turned back into the kitchen, not bothering to shut the door, and said in a loud voice to his wife, "Well this sucks."

"Um…Vernon?" asked Aunt Petunia. "Shouldn't we shut the door so the boys don't hear us?"

"Shush! I'm thinking." said Uncle Vernon. He thought for a moment. "I've got it! We'll ignore the problem and hope that it will go away! Just like we did when we found out you were pregnant with Dudley!"

Later that evening, Uncle Vernon told Harry to get his stuff and bring it to Dudley's other bedroom.

"Can I have my letter?" asked Harry.

"No, now shut up and go to your new room." answered Uncle Vernon.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Screamed Dudley. "I DON'T WANT HIM IN THERE!"

"Too bad!" said Uncle Vernon.

The next day, the Dursley family (and Harry) were eating breakfast when the front door was kicked down by the postman.

"MAIL BITCHES!" he screamed as he threw the letters on the floor. He turned and proceeded down the street in order to break into more homes.

"Get the mail, Dudley." said Uncle Vernon.

"First my room and now this…" said a sullen Dudley as he waddled to the front door. He picked up the mail and looked at it. "Hey!" he exclaimed, "There's another letter for Harry!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Screamed Uncle Vernon as he leapt from the kitchen and tackled Dudley. He wrestled the letter away from Dudley, tore it up, stuffed the pieces in his mouth, and swallowed them. He smirked at Harry and said, "Too bad. Guess you won't ever-" He made a choking noise and grabbed his throat. "P-Paper cut!" he gasped out.

The next morning, at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM, Harry quietly opened the door to his new bedroom and crept silently out into the hallway. Harry was going to go wait on the corner of Privet Drive and silently assassinate the post man so he could grab the morning mail and see if a letter would be addressed to him. He snuck towards the front door-

He stepped on something squashy.

"OH MY GOD! GET OFF ME!" screamed a voice.

Harry looked down in horror as he realized that he was currently stepping on his uncle's face. To make sure, Harry jumped up and down several times. If the pain-induced whimpers were any indication, it _was _his uncle's face. Who knew?

Uncle Vernon stayed home from work that day and spent the day tearing up Harry's letters and nailing the mail slot shut.

And so the days passed, and more and more letters for Harry arrived. Uncle Vernon stopped going to work, using part of the 23 years of unused vacation time he had accrued at Grunnings. He spent the majority of his days nailing shut windows, doors, and toilets in order to stop the onslaught of mail.

On Sunday, the Dursley clan (and Harry) were gathered in the sitting room, staring at the watching the paint on the ceiling dry. Uncle Vernon, whose hair was frizzy and his moustache untrimmed, was twitching slightly. He was crossing his fingers and rocking back and forth, muttering, "No letters, no letters, no letters, no letters…"

The entire house suddenly began to shake. A rumbling noise could be heard from the fireplace.

Uncle Vernon stared at the fireplace in horror. "Please God no…" he whimpered.

Thousands of letters burst out of the fireplace and flew in every direction. Aunt Petunia screamed and dove for cover, Dudley got a letter to the forehead, and Uncle Vernon sat frozen on the ottoman and quietly started to cry.

Harry, lacking his relatives fear of envelopes, leapt up and snatched a letter out of the air. "MINE, BITCHES!" he yelled as he ran out of the room.

He almost made it to the stairs when someone pulled the letter out of his hands. Harry turned and faced his uncle, whose eyes were bulging. Aunt Petunia dragged Dudley out of the living room and Uncle Vernon growled out, "That is it! I've had it with these motherf**king letters in my motherf**king house! Everyone pack your bags! We leave in 5 minutes!"

Dudley held up a TV. "Can we bring the TV?"

Uncle Vernon took the TV from him and tossed it through the window. "Does that answer your question? MOVE!" he yelled.

They drove through the day and night. Everywhere they stopped, Uncle Vernon would find a new letter, scream like a girl, throw it out of the car, and drive off.

"This sucks." said Dudley hours later. "It's Monday. I hate Mondays. Now where the hell's my lasagna?"

Choosing to ignore Dudley's reference to a newspaper comic, Harry suddenly realized two things. First off, Uncle Vernon had a massive bald spot on the back of his head. Second, and more importantly, it was Harry's eleventh birthday tomorrow.

To be frank, Harry didn't really care about his birthday. It was great that he was a year older, but the Dursleys never really cared about it. And by "never really cared about it", I mean that they ignored it completely. Last year, Uncle Vernon had looked at Harry, turned to Dudley, and said, "Happy Bi-Annual Birthday Dudley."

But still, you weren't eleven everyday.

And really what's the worst that could happen?

* * *

**And that is that.**

**I'm saving them getting to the hut on the rock for next chapter.**

**Want to comment? Complain? Yell at me because you can't figure out what the dirty word in "cir-cum-stance" is? Then review!**


End file.
